Harry Pothead and the Great Stoner
by WebMole
Summary: Rated R for drug related humor and swearing. This is just a funny parody I'm writing, with a few moments of sadness, seriousness but mostly humor. Please read and review!
1. Meet the Hurlies

Chapter 1: Meet the Hurlies  
  
Mr. And Mrs. Hurly, of #4 Private Part Drive were proud to say they had the largest weed plant in the country, thank-you very much! They were the first people you'd think to be involved in any drug busts or illegal house parties because they were always getting into such nonsense. Mr. Hurly was the director of a company called "Fun-in-tons," which made midnight pleasures more fun. He had a big beefy... You know, but he was always out of viagra, although he had a very large view of wild nights... Mrs. Hurly was fat and scrawny, and was so stupid when she saw a sign that said "Wet Floor" she actually wet the floor... She also spent a lot of her time spying on what the neighbors were doing in their bedrooms at night... The Hurly's had a small son called "Pudgy" and in their opinion, he would grow up to be the biggest drug lord of alllll time! The Hurly's had all the weed they needed, but they also had to keep it a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it and smoke it all to themselves! They couldn't bare the thought of anybody finding out about their secret stash of pot... It came from the most evil family in the world, luckily they were all dead, The Potheads. Mrs. Pothead was Mrs. Hurly's sister, and they hadn't met for 7 years. In fact, Mrs. Hurly pretended she never had a sister that dealt her pot because Mrs. Pothead and her stoner husband were as un-hurliesh as it was possible to be! The Hurly's gawked at what the neighbors would say if they found their secret stash and stole it all to themselves... The Hurly's knew that the Potheads had a small son too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potheads away, because if he ever visited, he was sure to smoke their weed garden!   
  
When Mr. and Mrs. Hurly woke up on the smoky gray Sunday afternoon, our story starts; it was nothing to think that there would certainly be a drug bust somewhere in town today. At least 5000 across the country maybe even. Mr. Hurly hummed as he picked out his most screwed up tie yet and Mrs. Hurly gossiped away, trying not to give away the weed, while trying to wrestle a screaming Pudgy into his chair... Literally. None of them noticed a super giant marijuana leaf fly past the window in the strong winds of Sunday.  
  
At half past 12, Mr. Hurly picked up his briefcase full of beer, pecked Mrs. Hurly on the cheek and tried to slap Pudgy's fat little face so he would stop that retarted screaming. Pudgy threw his "Cracky Charms" across the kitchen and his bowl smashed onto the wall letting his Cracky Charms splutter to the ground. "Little bitch! Heheheee!" chuckled Mr. Hurly as he barraged out the door. He got into his brand new Lamborghini and backed out of #4 drive. As he drove, on the corner of the street, he noticed something... Strange. A cat. A cat smokin' a bowl whilst reading the newspaper. For a second Mr. Hurly didn't realize what he had seen and accidentally drove into the ditch. He backed out and kept on driving, how retarted this man was... Cats couldn't smoke a bowl, and they couldn't read newspapers... Could they? Mr. Hurly pulled out a cigarette, smoked it real quick and washed it down with some moonshine.   
  
As he drove to town, he thought of nothing except a large shipment of weed he was expecting later that day. But on the edge of the town, weed was drilled to the edge of his mind by something else... As he looked he could make out a figure of what was a man in a Barney suit. Then another. Soon he realized everyone on the street was wearing Barney suits. He ignored it and kept on driving. Mr. Hurly couldn't bare people who dressed up like Barney... Surely they could at least dress up like Smokey the clown! "Flabergastic!" he mumbled in a ruffed voice. He supposed this was a new fashion, and he fingered a group of these, "weirdoes," while passing by a stoplight. He ran straight through it to make a break away. He kept hearing them at every light, whispering in their gay tongue... Mr. Hurly was enraged to see that most of them weren't gay at all! Some were straight and still wearing these damn Barney suits... Why, that man had to be older then he was! And wearing a Baby-Bop emerald green suit? "For the love of god... Go smoke a bowl..." he chanted.   
  
A few minutes later, Mr. Hurly arrived back at the "Fun-in-tons" parking lot; his mind cleared and back on drills. Mr. Hurly always sat with his back to the window, in his office on the 13th floor... Just in case things got serious, he could always jump and make things right again. Hehe. Today he never noticed the large marijuana leaf swoop past him across the window in broad daylight, though people down in the street did, and started cheering it on... Hoping it would land in their own hands! They pointed and gazed open eyed at the large plants, yes, plants, sped overhead. Most of them were already stoned, but they didn't care. Mr. Hurly, however, had a perfectly money-raking morning. He yelled at 16 different people, made several arrangements for lunch and then broke his computer screen for no apparent reason.   
  
Things were going great! He was in a great mood, and decided to walk over the McDonalds and buy himself a sausage McMuffin... Even though everybody knows breakfast is over at 10:30 at McDonalds... He had forgotten all about the people in Barney suits until he passed a group of them wandering about the streets next to McDonalds. He fingered them angrily. "You bastard..." he mumbled as he passed. He didn't know why but they made him mad.   
  
It was when he came out of McDonalds that he caught a few words of what they were saying... "The Potheads... Yes! That's what I heard! Their son, Harry!" Mr. Hurly wished he were dead. These damned people were making him fed up. He wanted to shove a wrench down all of their throats! He dashed across the street, ran to his office, and went straight to his porta-potty to let it all out... After an hour-long shit, he came out and felt relieved. He thought for a minute. NO... He was being a jackass; Pothead wasn't an unusual name... He was sure there were lots of people called "Pothead" who had a son called "Harry." Come to think of it... He was sure his nephew's name was in-fact, "Gaylord Pothead." He had never even met the boy! Thank god... It might've been Susie or Bitchface... He didn't know. There was no point in warning his bitchy wife... She always got half-assed with any mention of the Potheads. He didn't blame her, if he'd had a sister like that, he'd probably lose his mind.   
  
When he came out of his building for work at the end of the day, he was so high he accidentally walked into some gayass. "Sorry" he said stubbornly in a 5-year-old child's voice as the tiny old man stumbled and fell. This man was wearing a Barney suit. He didn't seem upset with being knocked to the ground...  
  
"Don't be sorry you half-assed bastard! For you-know-who has been shot in the head 5 times with a 5 caliber! Even huggles such as yourself should be celebrating this happy happy day!" The old man hugged Mr. Hurly around the neck and ran. Mr. Hurly was pissed... Being called a huggle and all. What a bitch.  
  
He drove home pissed. He passed more people in Barney suits and heard more jibber-jabber. As he pulled up to #4, he realized that big fat cat was still there... But he wasn't smokin' a bowl OR reading a newspaper... It was sitting in his garden! He jumped out of his car and screamed: "SHOO! SHOO! OUT YOU BASTARD!! OUT!!" he screamed in rage as the cat got up slowly and waddled away. He carefully checked his garden. Thank god, all of his "stuff" was still there. He puffed in relief, got his briefcase from the car and walked into his humble home.   
  
Mrs. Hurly had, had a normal day and told Mr. Hurly about the gossip she had heard and how Pudgy had learned a new word: "Shit!" Mr. Hurly acted normal and after Pudgy was in bed, he sat down to watch the evening news.   
  
"And our top story today is Marijuana Leaves sweeping the nation! Thousands of sightings have been spotted, swooshing everywhere, whether it be 1000 feet high, or in the streets of New York." The newscaster grinned and smirked as he tripped and fell. Mr. Hurly clicked off the television. Mrs. Hurly came into the living room carrying two cups of "special" tea with "special" tealeaves. It was no good, he HAD to say something to her. He cleared his throat.  
  
"Uh... Petunia dear, you haven't heard from your sister lately have you?" Mrs. Hurly was enraged. "Get over it bitch, I asked you a question!" shouted Mr. Hurly.   
  
"NO! I haven't!" she said sharply. "Why do you ask dear?" she said.  
  
"Funny things on the news... You know. Marijuana Leaves, Barney Suits, Shootings..." he went on.  
  
"And... What does that have to do with my sister?" she asked. She gave the, "the look," oh, how he hated the look...  
  
"Oh... I don't know..." he wondered whether he should say something about hearing the name Pothead come up. He decided not to dare. Instead, he said, "They're son... He'd be about Pudgy's age about now, wouldn't he?"  
  
"I suppose sooooo," she said highly.   
  
"What's his name again? Bitchface isn't it? Maybe Bitchfest?" asked Mr. Hurly.  
  
"Harry... Nasty name."   
  
"Oh yesss... I quite agree with you my love... I quite agree..." his heart started going at 500,000 beats per minute now. He didn't say another word and carried on with the events of the night...  



	2. The Addict Who Lived

Chapter 2: The Addict Who Lived  
  
The cat on the corner of the Private Part Drive was still wide-awake. It stood there, like a statue, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Private Part Drive. It lay still. No words, just waiting for sound. It didn't quiver when it heard car doors, not even when two owls swooped by and made a ruckus. Still, it sat wide eyed with eyes still fixed on the far corner of Private Part Drive. Suddenly, before the cat moved a single inch, a man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, he appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he had just been blown from a cigarette and drained onto the curb.   
  
The cat's tail twitched and it's eyes narrowed at the sight of the man's large pipe. Nothing like this man, or his pipe, had ever been noticed on Private Part Drive...  
  
He was fat, dumb, tall, and very very old, he almost looked 400 judging by his wrinkles. He was wearing skimpy clothes, the kind a hooker would wear, the cat guessed it was his daily wear... Surely he would change into some better clothes yet as the school year rolled around... He wore high-healed buckled boots, a purple kilt and large blue poncho, what a weird sense of style he had... His hair was in a mohawk; he had giant sunglasses on, even though it was almost 12:00 midnight... He wore wristbands, had an earring on his right ear, and he stumbled as he walked. His nose was long and disgusting. It looked at though Jackie Chan had broken it into a million pieces it was so unbearable. This man's name was Albus Dumblehore.   
  
Albus Dumblehore had not realized he had just set foot on a street where everything from his hooker-styled clothes to his name was unwelcome. I guess he didn't give a damn, he was from Detroit. He was busy rummaging through his cloak, looking for something. Something big. Suddenly he realized he was being watched, watched by a big tubby cat, with narrow eyes, from the other side of the street. The site of the cat amused him and he laughed.   
  
"I should have known..." he chuckled in his 400 year-old voice. He found what he was looking for in his pocket; it seemed to be a baggy of greens... Man, this man had so many pockets; he must've been loaded! The cat was suddenly excited. He held it in the air. Filled his pipe. Lit the pipe. Smoked the pipe. The nearest street lamp went out with a bang. He filled the pipe. Lit the pipe. Smoked the pipe. Another light went off, this time with a pop. 13 times he filled, lit and smoked the pipe until all the lights went out. The only light were the eyes of the cat watching him. Even Mrs. Hurly wouldn't be able to know what was going on around here... It was so damn dark.  
  
Dumblehore put the pipe in his pocket and set off for #4. He sat down on the curb, next to the cat. He never looked at it, but then he started to talk to it. You would think he was stoned, but this wasn't the case for the magical fairy man.   
  
"Fancy seeing you here... Professor Humplick." Said Dumblehore. He turned to smile at the little runt, but it was gone. Instead he was sitting there, smiling at a rather ugly lady, you could call her a witch. She was wearing rectangular glasses, kinda like witches did... Very strange indeed. She too was wearing a poncho, a big blue one. Her hair was messed up, she looked in a kind of pissed off mood, she always did. She looked at Dumblehore.  
  
"How did you know it was me?!?!" she asked. He looked at her and chuckled for the third time tonight.  
  
"My dear professor, I've never seen a cat sit so darn stiffly and quiet, now you know why I knew it all along."  
  
"You'd be stiff if you had been sitting on a brick wall all day!!" Professor Humplick bellowed.   
  
"ALL day!? When you could have been celebrating in Barney suits?? I must've stopped for 19 feasts, and 13 parties on my way here! By god it was good." Professor Humplick bitched a little and put on a frown.  
  
"Oh yes... You'd think everyone would be happy... But they should be more careful!! Even the huggles have noticed something goin' up!" she complained in a raspy leprechaun voice. "It was on the news!!"  
  
"You sound like a leprechaun!" Dumblehore chuckled again. "Ofcourse we're celebrating, we havn't celebrated for 13 years woman!!"  
  
"I know that!!" shrieked Humplick. "But that's no reason to go shoving a wrench down our throats for a little victory!! People are being careless, out on the streets! They're not even dressed in huggle clothes, and they keep swapping rumors, enough for the huggle to hear." She beamed at Dumblehore. She was hoping he would say something. He sensed it, and just to piss her off he said nothing so she went on. "Just imagine, the day you-know-who was gone, the huggles found out about us!"  
  
"It certainly seems you-know-who is gone... Thank god. Would you care for, some Angel Dust?"  
  
"A what?" she bellowed.  
  
"Angel Dust, a kind of huggle drug, drugs you up faster than Leprechaun Dust! I'm rather fond of it..." Dumblehore snickered.  
  
"No thank youuuuu... I smoked a bowl all day, I've had enough of that stuff for one day." She said.   
  
"As I was saying... If you-know-who IS gone, then we can surely call him by his REAL name! For 13 years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his real name, Oldelfarto." Professor Humplick flinched and had a sour taste in her face. Dumblehore, who was taking to Angel Dust pills, seemed not to notice. "Care for a fresh blue tasting one?" he asked Professor Humplick. She frowned. "I don't know why we can't say, 'Oldelfarto,' it's so confusing saying you-know-who..." She flinched again.  
  
"Ofcourse you aren't afraid of... Oldelfarto, everyone knows he's only afraid of YOU!!" she said.   
  
"You flatter me, witch, Oldelfarto had powers I could and can never have! He could kill us all! Oh my god... He- Never mind." Dumblehore kept a straight smile of satisfactory. Prof. Humplick frowned. Suddenly Dumblehore grinned. He snapped his fingers and a jukebox popped up. He pressed a few buttons and he started to dance...  
  
"If you wanna come and take a ride with me... We three-wheelin in the fo' with the gold D's.. Oh why do I live this wayyyyy?" Dumblehore hollered. Professor Humplick got up and yelled: "Heyyyy!! Must be the moneyyy!!"  
  
"You see? It IS a happy day. Let me see a smile!" Dumblehore chimed.  
  
"Alright.. your right." Prof. Humplick agreed. "But I must ask... What about the boy's parents?" Dumblehore stopped for a moment.  
  
"Oldelfarto... He... He killed them." Humplick stood in shock at the words. She was in more shock then when the "pencil shavings" under her dresser had gone missing one morning. "But he couldn't kill the boy. Nobody knows why." They stood still for a few minutes.  
  
"So where is the boy staying?" she whispered.  
  
"Here, with the Hurlies. Angrid is bringing him along right now." Said Dumblehore.  
  
"A-Angrid? Hurlies? Dumblehore, are you out of your mind?? He can't stay here!! Not with these people!" gasped Humplick.  
  
"It's for the best for him to stay with them... It's the only relatives he has that aren't dead. As for Angrid, I don't trust him with my life... But I only had to pay him 5 Nuts. You see? It pays to have someone to work cheap..."  
  
Suddenly a low sound became a little louder. Then louder. Suddenly a tank dropped from midair onto the paved road. A giant poked his head out. He got out and chucked a small blanket, with a baby, onto the pavement. Dumblehore caught it just in time. "Angrid!! For christ's sake! This is a baby!!" screamed Prof. Humplick.  
  
"Shut your face woman, I only take orders from Dumblehore!!" he bitched.  
  
"Now now Angrid, be nice." Soothed Dumblehore. "Now then, any problems on the way here?" Dumblehore asked.  
  
"Hope, not one, sir!" said Angrid pleased with himself.  
  
"Good... Let the games begin." Dumblehore tucked a note in with the wrapped up baby. He had noticed a scar of a skull on his forehead... No matter, it looked cool. He walked up to #4 and set the baby down on the step. He and Angrid hopped into the large tank and sped off. Humplick snapped out into thin air and the street lights came back on.  
____  
  
The next morning Mrs. Hurly went to get the paper. She bent over and... "Holy shit!!" She called for her husband. "There's a baby! A baby!!" she yelled. Pudgy was screaming and the neighbourhood awoke. A very different morning it was for the Hurlies that morning.   
  
Across the continents, the little baby did not know it... But wizards everywhere were chanting and boasting and refilling achoholic beverages...   
  
"To Harry Pothead, the addict who lived!"  



	3. A Strange Morning

Chapter 3: A Strange Morning  
  
Nearly ten years had passed since the Hurlies had found Harry on their doorstep. That one dreadful morning they awoke, and yet, Harry could remember aunt Petunia... "Holy shit!" That's all he could remember... The sun crept from the horizon, working it's way up to the front door of #4, Private Part Drive. It began sliding into the living room and up the stairs. Soon it was spreading throughout the house and the Hurlies all woke up! Pudgy came rampaging down the stairs like the Incredible Hulk while Mrs. Petroleum Hurly cooked a fresh breakfast of scrambled eggs and undercooked hamburger meat. Harry's Uncle Vernun read the newspaper.  
  
Mrs. Hurly walked over to the cupboard and went silent for a minute. Then suddenly she started to pound and scream at Harry's little cupboard door...   
  
"Wake up you miserable brat!! Don't make me yell!! I want you out of bed this instant, I'll make sure you don't get any hamburger meat... WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!!" She clapped and snapped her fingers, like gee-willaburs and kept pounding the door.  
  
"Alright!! I heard you the first time!" hollered Harry Pothead from inside his cupboard. He got dressed into Pudgy's old clothes and came out. He saw his aunt, uncle and cousin sitting at the table already, eating breakfast. A small little plate for him, with a spoonfull of undercooked hamburger meat, and a piece of uncooked egg yolk. A half glass of stale iron water was also prepared.  
  
"Eat up Pudgy, we're going to the zoo today!" said Uncle Vernun. It was Pudgy's birthday this particular day, and that meant he would be gone with his parents. Harry would be sent to old Mrs. Smellitoze, the nextdoor neighbour... He hated her, her smelly house and killer dog... He always got bit by the dog and he always went to the hospital, still, the Hurlies enjoyed it when he went there. They always hoped he would be killed.  
  
Harry sat sown and ate up. Suddenly the phone rang. Mrs. Hurly picked up, answered, doddled, talked and hung up. She frowned and gave Harry a beam. She was pissed.  
  
"That was Mrs. Smellitoze, she broke her leg while walking her dog... Damn old timers... Always being stupid..." explained Petroleum. Then uncle vernun put on a frown... The Pudgy. They were all mad at Harry.  
  
"I suppose... We gotta leave the boy here." Said Vernun.  
  
"Are you mad?!" hollered Petroleum. "Remember last time? He almost burnt the house down!! We will find another babysitter!!"  
  
Mrs. Hurly phoned about 13 different people, never getting hold of any... She frowned some more, and called another 13 people... There were no babysitters for poor ol' Harry. Harry snickered,this meant he was going to the zoo!! If all went well they wouldn't even yell at him AT the zoo because it was a public place! Harry was overjoyed. Suddenly the phone slammed onto the receiver.  
  
"LOOK BOY... We're ALL going to the zoo, if YOU spoil it, I'LL MAKE SURE you never see the outside AGAIN!!" Uncle Vernun was enraged. He hollered and yelled. "What a friggin moron!" Harry thought to himself. He wandered deep into thought and ignored the fat man's complaints. It wasn't over 'till the fat man screamed like a 12 year old girl...  
  
"And another thing... IF I HEAR ONE WORD!! I'LL MAKE SURE YOUR MISERABLE FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!!" Uncle Vernun screamed like a 12 year old girl. It was over. Harry got ready, he put on his nicest clothes (which were actually Pudgy's old ragged baggy pants and ugly cape) and shoes that were almost too small to fit him. Life was good.  
  
At half past 2, Pudgy's best friend, Pee Nusguy, arrived. He was wearing really tight clothes and had a grin on his face. He was usually the kid who stood behind the helpless child that Pudgy would punch at school... Harry swore he saw the kid get a boner over another boy atleast 4 times! He was definitly gay.  
  
"Alright, we're off to the zoo now!" Uncle Vernun chuckled. They all got in the car, with Harry crammed in the middle. Vernun gave him a beaming look or reassurance and they drove towards the downtown.  



End file.
